


Retrograde and Myrrh

by tequila2077



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Body Horror, Eventual Romance, F/M, Romance, follows the canon muriel route for the most part, muriel is a big dork who cant handle flirting, slow burn baby, some canon horror themes, sort of rivals to friends to lovers, spoilers for the apprentice's past, the apprentice is also a dork
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tequila2077/pseuds/tequila2077
Summary: The Masquerade is over, Count Lucio is dead, and Muriel has received the gift of being forgotten. Normally this would be something to celebrate, except his best and only friend Asra hasn't spoken to him since, locking himself inside the empty magic shop. When Muriel goes looking for him, he finds something that moves and talks when it shouldn't. And what makes things worse is that it keeps trying to talk to him. Meanwhile, the Master takes on an Apprentice.





	1. Agrimony

**Agrimony**

His shadow cloaks the entire doorway, the grooves and grain of the ageing wood now hidden underneath his massive frame. Muriel loitered on the steps to the magician’s shop, shifting uncomfortably. He hated being in the city; the voice in his head screaming to retreat to the forest where it was safe, where he was alone and wouldn't have to hurt anyone. But the ex-gladiator hadn't seen Asra for almost two weeks, not since the magician had given Muriel his gift. At first, Muriel wondered if the spell had accidentally affected Asra, but about four days ago he had come across the white-haired man picking herbs in the forest. Muriel had briefly greeted his friend, only to be taken aback by the dark circles under his eyes and the strain in his voice. They had mumbled through the motions of a conversation for only a few minutes before Asra took his leave, clearly impatient to get back to his shop. 

This worried Muriel. After the death of- after she died, Asra became sullen, dull. He no longer joked around or played pranks on Muriel whenever he was in a mischievous mood. On good days he was withdrawn, other days the magician started sobbing into his hands, Muriel standing awkwardly behind him with no clue how to handle such an outward display of emotion. Then the Masquerade happened, and Asra, swept up in the preparations and then the chaos that followed the Count’s death, seemed to have gotten better. He gave Muriel the gift he so desperately needed; to be forgotten. Because of Asra, he didn't have to worry about the looks or the murmurs that followed him whenever he came to the marketplace, he didn't have to deal with foolhardy drunks wanting to fight the biggest man in the room. He didn't have to hear the name “Scourge” ever again.

And then Asra had all but disappeared into the shop, only venturing out a few times to replenish supplies. Stranger still was the things he bought. Muriel had shadowed him once, as the magician flitted from vendor-to-vendor buying all manner of poultices, herbs, and tools. A children's book. A tool to mash food. Two sturdy, wooden canes made of polished oak. A handful of travel leaflets, some for Vesuvia. He never even bothered to haggle, and Muriel knew for a fact that Asra never passed up an opportunity to save a few coins on a good deal. A skinflint remnant of their days as penniless dock-children.

Muriel is struck with the thought that Asra didn't want to be friends any more. The words _don’t want you there who would who would_ slithered through his brain like one of those vampire eels at the palace. Contorting its slimy body through his skull and squeezing his throat so that he could feel his breath become shallow and laboured. _No one wants you no one no one no one no-_ Muriel takes a deep breath to steel himself, silences his thoughts, and pushes open the door to the shop.

It was emptier than he remembered. Shelves that were once filled with herbs and jars of all kinds now held nothing but cobwebs. Various cloths and silks that had been used as decoration were faded and grimy from neglect. The room seemed to be devoid of any magic, a husk of something once good. Muriel advances, taking in the decrepit surroundings. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust, various papers and assorted supplies stacked haphazardly on the table. In the corner a large trunk with new, heavy-looking lock on it that almost shone compared to the rest of the dirty shop. His shoulders knock into some empty bottles and the sound of it almost made him jump. Ducking his head under the short (for him) archway, Muriel pulls aside the curtain that separated the back room. 

_Her_ room. Unbidden, a memory plays in his mind’s eye.

The first time he had heard about the shop-keep was the day after the yearly Masquerade. Asra had burst into Muriel’s hut almost skipping with joy. As they set the table for their customary supper together the fair-haired magician babbled giddily about the event. Muriel listened intently, always interested to hear whatever drunken antics the guests got up to, what food was served and how the rooms looked this year. 

Muriel had never attended the Masquerade - the thought of being around so many people at once made his stomach turn. He only ever set foot in the palace against his will - sometimes, after a particularly “entertaining” fight, Lucio would summon him to be paraded around, a show for the courtiers and whatever dignitaries happened to be visiting at the time. He hated it. Their coos and shocked gasps. The Count pointing out a new scar and dramatizing his most recent murder.

But the way his friend would describe the ball was enthralling. There were no sneers behind his words, only wonder. _I finally met her_. Asra had said.

_Her?_ He played along.

_The shopkeeper. The one I set up my stall behind_. _She’s been preparing to take it over from her aunt._ Muriel had nodded and chewed his food slowly as his friend continued, a smile plastered all over his face _. She’s wonderful Muriel. You’d really like her_. This wasn't his first time hearing about the mysterious shop magician. For the past year, Asra had been sneaking glances at her whenever they happened to be in the market at the same time. He’d even been advertising his readings more publicly, in the hopes that she might stop by to “check out the competition”. Then, by chance, they had bumped into each other at the Masquerade, recognised the other despite the masks, with the shopkeeper cheekily referring to him as “the scoundrel that has been stealing my customers”. Asra had slowly become smitten ever since.

_I want you to come with me this time_ Asra said one day as they walked to the edge of the forest together. _She’d love to meet you._ Muriel wanted to refuse him outright. He dreaded having to endure her constant fearful glances, or worse, her admiration. But Asra was a master of the puppy eyes, and he caved with a sigh, following the smaller man through the city. It was nearing dusk when they arrived at the shop, where an older woman was outside turning off the lamp and preparing to close. She gave a sly smile as Asra approached, _Ah, the young man who comes to pester my niece and eat my preserves,_ her eyes flickered to Muriel. _Good evening, Scourge,_ she said in a respectful tone. He gave a vague grunt as Asra grabbed his hand and pulled him through the narrow doorframe.

A woman appeared at the bottom of a staircase, plates of food in hand. _Asra!_ She set the food down and immediately went to embrace him, wrapping themselves up tightly in the other’s arms. Muriel felt the first pangs of jealousy then, even though he knew Asra was an affectionate man, seeing his friend show such fondness for this stranger soured his mood. Then she grabbed his own hand to shake it, smiling at him. Muriel was taken off-guard, forgetting to pull his hand back. She released him and set off to prepare the table, humming as she laid out the plates. When everything was finished she stood back and, clapping her hands, producing a small but dazzling display of coloured sparks that burst into the air above her head before fizzling out. _I just learnt this one. Tetya says it’s a junk spell, but…_

_I love it!_ Asra laughs. They eat their meal, it’s good, but he doesn't tell her that. When Muriel is back in his hut for the night he doesn't sleep for a while, pre-occupied with the sinking feeling that he is being replaced.

That was six years ago. There are no plates, no magical fireworks now. Asra always made the effort to see him, even as he grew closer to the shop-keep, but Muriel knew that the bond they had, the deeper level of Asra’s heart that once only he had access to, was being shared with another. Still, he mourned when the Plague had taken her, and went to comfort Asra when he’d found out. Asra was good to him. Asra was his best friend. Which is why Muriel forces himself up the stairs into the last room of the house. The wood creaks under his big feet and his shoulders scrape against the brick walls. At the top of the stairs is another door. Muriel grasps the handle, pushing it open slowly. 

“Asra…?” Muriel could see his friend kneeling on the bed, spoon of something in hand. The next thing he was going to say died in his throat. His legs turn to stone and his heart stills as he gapes, wide-eyed, at the scene before him.

His best friend Asra, spoon-feeding a dead woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will eventually lead to smut most likely, but not for a while. The apprentice will have an established name and personality and is female. This is my first time uploading to Ao3 so any feedback is very welcome!


	2. Schizandra

**Schizandra**

Muriel remains rooted in the doorway. Asra freezes, spoon in hand. The corpse in the bed stares, saying nothing.

Asra breaks the silence by shrugging his shoulders and giving a tired smile. “Guess I forgot to lock the door this time, huh?”

“Asra,” Muriel speaks in a dry-tongued whisper, “what have you done?”

“It’s my fault, I’ve been so busy lately I completely forgot to put the wards up. You’d think someone like me would remember-”

“ _Asra.”_ Muriel finds his voice, feeds it his fear and lets it grow. _“What have you **done**?”_

He watches the smile on his best friends face tremble and fall away, replaced with exhaustion and apprehension that Muriel hasn’t seen before.

“Muri, please, I know this looks bad. Listen, something happened at-”

**“ _GET AWAY FROM IT!”_ **the words explode from him, startling them both. Always-gentle Muriel had never yelled at Asra, not once. The sudden spark of anger scares him almost as much as it startles Asra, who drops his full spoon somewhere into the bedcovers and recoils. Muriel strides into the cramped room and reaches for the magician, grabbing his wrist as tightly as he could to pull him away from the...the _thing_ on the bed. 

“Muriel, stop! Listen, you have to let me explain!” He wasn’t going to do anything but get out but Asra struggles fruitlessly against him. He’s dragged him halfway out the door when a pathetic noise stops them both.

“A... Asra?” 

It was the shop-keep’s body. It sits upright on the bed and looks at the small magician with the most wretched expression Muriel had ever seen. Amber eyes well up with tears. The woman who’d been dead for almost a year begins to cry.

In an instant Asra twists himself out of Muriel’s arms and is at her side, comforting her. “No nonono it’s okay, I’m right here, Natasha. See?” He grabs her hand and holds it to his face, plastering on another strained smile, “I’m right here.” Dumbfounded, Muriel can only watch as the women’s hiccupping cries turn to sniffles then stop all-together. Asra lowers her head onto the pillows and his hands pulse with magic as the shop-keep succumbs to sleep. When he finishes, Asra turns to him with a guilty expression, fiddling with the hem of his outfit. “I owe you an explanation”.

Yes, he does.

The two of them sit in the old divination room, staring at each other wordlessly. Muriel uncharacteristically broke the silence first.

“How”.

“I don’t know for sure. Something happened at the Masquerade, but it’s fuzzy. I remember having dinner, I think, and then speaking with The Magician.” Muriel raised his eyebrows. Asra spoke with the Major Arcana? In person? Asra senses his surprise and elaborates; “This wasn’t the first time. I spoke with them before and I made a deal. They said they could bring Natasha back. Muri I-” his voice breaks, hidden tears threatening to surface, “it was my fault. I left her here all alone. I left her here to die all by herself, I-” Asra buries his face in his hands, breathing shallow and stuttered, “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try something.” 

Muriel is a soft-hearted man, despite appearances. He could understand, as much as the thought of such magic sent his stomach churning. If he had lost Asra somehow…

Still, it wasn’t natural. It wasn’t _normal._ When people died, they stayed dead; Muriel knew this more than anyone, having sent so many to their graves. Every maimed body, every bloody corpse was a reminder that he had taken something from the world that can’t ever be put back.

So, what made her different?

“...and then I ended up at the Lazaret. Muriel?” He’d been spacing out. Muriel gives a slight nod for Asra to continue. “I don’t know what happened, but something went wrong. I think. She’s-” Asra breaks off with a loud, long yawn. Eyes dull, clothes dishevelled.

Muriel crosses his arms. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“I get some here and there. She can’t be left alone for too long.” That meant for the last two weeks Asra hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep. “She has…nightmares.”

“You’re talking about it like it’s really Natasha.”

“It _is._ Muriel, it’s really her, I promise. Don’t you trust me?” Asra grabs his hand, pleading. “I need help. I-I can’t do this by myself.” Muriel just stares, was he really going to…? “Muriel I wouldn’t ask you this if it wasn’t necessary. I need your help.” There are no puppy eyes this time. “You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to.”

Muriel had earned his freedom, but Asra had been the one to give it to him. His owed his friend a debt. More than that, he wanted to see the hope back in Asra’s eyes. See him smile and laugh again. Hear him tell stories over dinner. What kind of a friend could refuse something like that?

“What...do you need me to do?”

Asra beams at him. The sight was enough to make Muriel forget the absurdity of the entire meeting, if only for a moment.

Muriel regrets his decision the moment he sets foot in the room. He’s as far away from the bed as possible and glaring at the sleeping form of someone that, up until two weeks ago, was a handful of ash and bone buried six feet underground. _I just need to you watch her_ Asra said. _She won’t be any trouble, and I won’t be out long_ he said. Muriel grumbles to himself, wonders how Asra was always so good at talking people into things.

The figure on the bed stirs, interrupting his train of thought. Asra’s spell was wearing off so quickly? Muriel scans the room, trying to find something to - to do what? Anything, he guesses. He didn’t know. The shopkeeper was once a powerful magician of some renown through old Vesuvia. This ghost on the bed could be even more dangerous. It gives a final stretch, lifts itself up and pulls the covers off its head. Muriel grabs the nearest object to his left, and thrusts his arms out, just in time to brandish a large wooden spoon at the woman.

Natasha - Natasha’s _face_ \- blinks at him. Muriel suddenly feels very foolish and puts the spoon back down. He’d been a gladiator, he could handle one tiny person bare-handed if he needed to. He perches himself on a wooden box opposite the bed and draws his knees up to his chest. He could do this. For Asra.

The pair spend a few minutes doing nothing but stare at each other - Muriel’s suspicious glare contrasting with her innocent, curious one. Her eyes remind him of Inanna, a bright, catching amber, almost yellow. Something friendly behind them. Muriel’s guard lets down a little, forces himself to look away. She is not Inanna. She is something bad.

“As... ruh?” a quiet voice brings him out of his thoughts. “As... raa.” Her voice is quiet, familiar. Muriel doesn’t want to answer but she makes that same pathetic expression.

“Not here.”

“.... Asra?”

“He’ll come back soon.” Ridiculous. Why is he trying to reassure her? 

“...As-”

“Stop.” His voice rumbles around the room, agitated. It occurs to him that his friends name might be the only thing she can say - the ‘something wrong’ Asra was talking about earlier. She’s still looking at him with those big eyes, and he wonders how deep the problem is. He sees a child, not a magician, on the bed in front of him.

He points to himself. “...Muriel.” It catches her attention, so he says it again. “Muriel.”

“Mmm..muurr...el.” It surprises him when she tries to repeat the words back so quickly. “Murrr-eee-al.” The sound of her voice is old and new, the voice of a year ago dances on a tongue that’s making up the steps as it goes along.

“Mew-re-el.” He sounds it out for her, drawing out the syllables to make it easy. 

“M… Muriel?” Almost perfect. Her accent emerges and rolls the ‘r’, making his own name sound foreign.

They notice how close they’ve gotten at the same time. She’s at the end of the bed and he’s at the edge of his seat. The two of them lock eyes, searching the other’s face for some hidden mystery. She doesn’t look like a dead, rotten thing. She looks like Natasha. A small hand emerges from the bedding and reaches towards his face, and for some reason, he doesn’t think to move. Her slender fingers tremble slightly, inches away from his cheek. Below them, a door slams open. “Muriel! I’m back!”

The spell is broken. Natasha pulls her hand away, Muriel shoves himself back into the wall. Asra enters the room with sacks full of market goods. “Did you miss me?”

Muriel rises and squeezes into the narrow doorframe, “I’ll be downstairs.” He doesn’t wait for a response, already halfway down the steps by the end of his sentence. Asra’s gentle words filter out from above as he sets himself down in the divination room, looking at the multicoloured tapestries but not really seeing them. The previous scene plays over in his mind.

His heart is beating faster than usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've shifted some chapters around and done some editing because i am a finicky slut with attention problems, there is now only 2 big chapters instead of the little ones


	3. Cordyceps

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